


Addictive Behavior

by AughtPunk



Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: Alternate Universe - Serial Killers, Blood, Blood Kink, Bloodlust, But boy is there blood, M/M, There's violence and death but it's really not graphically described, Those dorks are just kinda messed up this time around, in a cute way, just a little
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-07
Updated: 2014-05-23
Packaged: 2018-01-14 21:14:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 9,210
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1279024
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AughtPunk/pseuds/AughtPunk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Addiction ran in Carlos’ family. Every family member had their own vice: some drank, some gambled, some smoked. It was just one of those things Carlos learned to accept early on in life. After years of hard work and dedication he had defeated life’s normal temptations.</p><p>Though, Carlos reflected as he drove down the dark road towards the sand wastes, most addictions don't result in murder.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Saturday, Dec 1st, 2012

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Mixxy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mixxy/gifts).



Addiction ran in Carlos’ family. Every family member had their own vice: some drank, some gambled, some smoked. It was just one of those things Carlos learned to accept early on in life. For the most part he was able to avoid his family’s common addictions. He never drank a drop in his life. He turned down countless cigarettes. He even missed an old friend’s bachelor party in order to stay away from the luring lights of Vegas. After years of hard work and dedication he had defeated life’s normal temptations.

 Though, Carlos reflected as he drove down the dark road towards the sand wastes, most addictions don't result in murder.

 It’s not like he meant to kill him! When Carlos moved to Night Vale he swore to kick his annoying little ‘habit’ for good. No nights spent scrubbing bloodstains out of the floor, no more burning clothes, and certainly no more late night shallow grave digging. But then one of the lab assistants happened to mess up a month’s worth of data by spilling a damned Dr. Pepper all over it. A month! And the bastard had the nerve to laugh it off! It’s just data, he said! Nothing major lost, he said! Unfortunately for the lab assistant he happened to say all of that right while Carlos was in the middle of dissecting a lab rat with a very sharp scalpel.

 Carlos pulled his car over onto the shoulder and turned off his lights. The darkness wrapped around him, leaving him alone with his thoughts. He couldn’t deny that the act felt…good. Real good. Like finally scratching an itch he had a hard time reaching. Or kicking off his shoes after a long day in the lab. If it wasn’t for the liquifying innards of the corpse in the trunk he’d probably take a moment to enjoy the feeling even more. A shame, since the warmth that flooded his body was wonderful. He could feel the lovely tingle from the top of his head all of the way down to his toes.

 Too bad he didn’t have anyone to share the moment with.

 With a heavy sigh Carlos finally stepped out of the car to finish his long night’s work. The lab had already been scrubbed clean. The evidence destroyed. At first he was worried about the Secret Police, but considering no one had stopped him he could only assume that murder was legal this week. Still, it would tarnish his reputation if the word got out about his bad habit. No one likes a murderer in their neighborhood, even if it was a perfect scientist.

 A knot formed in his stomach as he popped the trunk open. _Cecil._ He didn’t even think about Cecil! The strange radio announcer who sang Carlos’ voice in a way no one had before. He had no idea what to think of the man when he first came to town, and now six months later he still wasn’t sure. His instincts about Cecil wildly fluctuated between ‘running away screaming’ to ‘asking him out on a date’. As he pulled the double bagged bulging trash bag from his trunk Carlos tried not to think about what Cecil would think of this. Maybe the Cecil would be the one running away screaming for once. He grabbed his trusty shovel and walked out into the wastes, dragging the bag behind him.

  Thanks to last week’s sample collecting Carlos knew that digging a hole out in the sand wastes would be far too time consuming. There was, however, a nice outcropping of rocks that would be perfect to hide a body from view. All Carlos had to do was lay out the body, give it a few good whacks with his shovel to hide the scalpel wounds, and let nature take care of the rest. By the time anyone bothered to poke their nose around his ex-lab assistant should be nothing more than a pile of bones. That should give him enough time to find a better place to hide the bodies.

 Which there wasn’t going to be any more of.

 Because this was the last one.

 Carlos walked around the side of the rocky outcropping, happy that his long night was almost over. Maybe he should stop at that diner he passed after he was done here. Or maybe straight home to a hot shower and a warm bed. His mind fluttered from idea to idea, eager to get the messy part over with as quickly as possible. He rounded the corner to the part of the outcropping hidden from the road and stopped dead in his tracks.

 Never once did it occur to Carlos that someone else might be having a long night, too.

 He noticed the outfit first. How could he not? Just a few hours ago Carlos was staring at that outfit, trying not to blush as its owner attempted to question him about the moon in the middle of Ralph’s. But now the oddly coordinated outfit was covered in deep, still-wet stains. Its owner was no better, his skin and hair painted in still drying blood. Yet even with his clothes ruined and his hair clumped together there was still something about Cecil that made Carlos’ heart stop.

 The two men locked eyes. They stood there in the soft moonlight, waiting for the other to make the first move. It was Cecil who reacted first, his eyes flickering down at the bag at Carlos’ side. Too late did Carlos realize that a hole had been torn in the side of the bag. The dark of the night might have been enough to hide the blood leaking out, but there was nothing he could do to hide the fact that his ex-assistant’s hand was poking out. Carlos realized that he was staring down at his poorly hid body, too. He looked back up at Cecil and realized three rather important things.

 One, that even though he had thought up at least a dozen excuses to explain what he was doing he couldn’t think of a single one.

 Two, what Carlos had assumed to be a pile of rocks next to Cecil’s feet was clearly a body in far worse shape than Carlos’ own.

 And three, Cecil was almost glowing with happiness. The radio host stumbled forward, catching his foot on the eviscerated body on the ground. He reached out and grabbed Carlos’ hand, taking it into his own.

 "Oh, _Carlos._ " Cecil spoke in a hushed whisper overflowing with joy. "You really are perfect, aren’t you?"


	2. Sunday, Dec 2nd, 2012

The most shocking thing about the Moonlite All-Nite Diner was how normal it was. The diner was a beacon of sanity in the endless black ocean known as Night Vale. The menu was nearly identical to the old diner Carlos used to go to during his college career. The decor had been updated to pastel seashells sometime during the sixties and remained untouched since. The only thing that stood out was the bloodstained man sitting across from Carlos.

 "The corned beef hash is really good here. Even better with a side of eggs, sunny side up!"

 Cecil was talking. Carlos couldn’t hear him. His attention was focused on Cecil’s bloodstained hands. In the dark of the scrublands he had assumed that Cecil was wearing gloves. Under the flickering florescent lights above Carlos could now see that he was mistaken. The man’s fingers were caked in drying blood that flaked off with every movement of his hand. An act, Carlos noted, that was distracting without the blood. The way he tapped the side of his coffee cup, the way they danced across the menu, the way that wait did Cecil just ask him a question?

 "I’m sorry?" Carlos said, forcing himself to look up at Cecil face.

 "I said, who was he?"

 The diner was silent. The only waitress on duty was busy watching the muted television on the wall. The only other customer was a man in a ridiculous feathered headdress sitting at the counter. The Sheriff’s Secret Police Not-Really-Hidden Hidden camera was focused on the broken jukebox in the corner. They were essentially alone. Yet Carlos knew that Cecil would have said those words even if the place was packed to the gills. He probably wouldn’t have cleaned off his hands in that scenario, either. Carlos moved his lips silently, unsure how to respond.

 "I’m assuming he was a scientist." Cecil said as rubbed his fingers over his coffee. Little flakes of dried blood peeled of and dropped into the piping hot liquid. For a moment Carlos wondered if Cecil even realized he was doing that. "He was wearing a lab coat, and I know they just don’t hand lab coats out to anybody! Wait. Unless he was impersonating a scientist. Was it that? Because the City Counsel will actually grant you a tax write off for it."

 "What? No! No." Carlos’ voice cracked around the edges. "He wasn’t, I’m not…He was one of my lab members, okay? And, and he ruined a month’s worth of data. I lost my temper and…" He rubbed his eyes. "I shouldn’t have. He didn’t deserve that. The experiments could have always been redone. It’s just…it’s just a bad habit of mine. An old habit. I thought I kicked it but…"

 "Carlos!"

 Cecil reached over and grabbed Carlos’ hand. The radio announcer’s skin was sticky with blood, but Carlos didn’t mind at all. He was too focused how soft Cecil’s hands were, and how nice they felt wrapped around his own. “Carlos, don’t sell yourself so short! What I saw out there was a work of art! To call it a bad habit is insulting to your own natural talents! Anyway.” He pulled away, leaving a faint residue on Carlos’ hands. “You’re the head of your laboratory. It’s your job to deal with scientists that fail at important sciencing. And I’m sure this was a very important experiment! He got off easy.”

 "I…" Carlos flexed his hand. It felt cold without Cecil’s around it. "I didn’t know you had an interest in science."

 "Oh, I’m _very_ into science these days.”

 Honey dripped from Cecil’s words. Carlos knew he could be a little on the dense side when it came to human interaction, but the look on Cecil’s face was impossible to miss. His stomach fluttered as he realized something rather important. He wasn’t just sitting across from a bloodstained man who knew his darkest secret. Oh no. He was sitting across from a bloodstained man who knew his darkest secret who was also _very handsome._

 "Ah." Carlos searched for a conversation topic. "What about your…." He waved his hand. "Person. What did he do?" At least, Carlos had assumed it was a man. By the time they ran into each other there wasn’t much left of Cecil’s victim. He also assumed that Cecil disfigured the corpse after the fact to help hide the murder. He hoped it was after the fact. He wasn’t sure if he could deal with any other possibilities at the moment.

 "What do you mean?" Cecil said, a slight hint of confusion in his voice.

 "Your um," Carlos looked around to make sure no one was listening. "Victim?"

 "Victim? I don’t-Oh, that’s right." Cecil gave Carlos an understanding smile. "Sometimes I forget that you’re not from around here. Even though you are nominated for Night Vale’s favorite Outsider. Let’s see. How to explain this? I’m sure you’ve noticed that our little town is different from most cities."

 "I’ve noticed."

 "Mm-hmm. Here in Night Vale things are…different. Out there bloodshed has a myriad of reasons behind it. Rage. Vengeance. Jealousy. Religion. Hatred. Love. Or the old standby of being in the wrong place at the wrong time. Not that you can’t die from of any of those things in Night Vale! Far from it! But here we have another way to die. Something unique. Something special. " Cecil rolled his fingers against his palm, peeling off the last of the blood. He dropped the dried clumps into his coffee and stirred it before taking a long sip.

 Carlos stared, torn between various rash decisions. “Which is?”

 Cecil smiled. His smile was just a tad too wide for a human. With far, far too many teeth.

 "A sacrifice."


	3. Monday, Jan 14th 2013

No one questioned where the missing lab assistant went. This was Night Vale, after all. People went missing every day. Sometimes every hour! A few days later a new scientist was hired and life went back to normal. Cecil never breathed a word about the late night meeting on the radio.Which surprised Carlos a little. This was the man who tripped over himself to describe what Carlos was wearing that day. But outside of a few whimpered comments about Carlos' hair he said nothing. A month passed with no repercussions from that night. Carlos almost forgot about the late night meeting in the sand wastes completely.

 Almost.

 Sometimes during a late night in the lab he would catch of whiff of coffee mixed with copper. Other times he would be listening to Cecil's show and find himself thinking of the man's unnatural large toothy grin. But the dreams were by far the worst. He would dream of black robes as dark as the void wrapped around his body. He would dream of a silver dagger stained with blood. He would dream of arms wrapped around him as a voice filled with blood and honey whispered in his ear.

 And every morning he would wake up, take a cold shower, and try to forget. It almost worked.

 Almost.

 Carlos had been in Night Vale eight months when he got the text. Normally texts from Cecil were very professional. Cecil would remind him about the various rituals Carlos' lab had to preform to stay alive. In return Carlos had questions about the various paperwork he needed to fill out to, well, stay alive. So Carlos was a little worried when his phone buzzed in the middle of the night. He rolled over and, still partially in his blood soaked dreams, fumbled for his phone.

  _ **carlos help** _

 His eyes snapped open.

  ** _lot behindRalphs_ **

 Carlos managed to get his pants and a spare labcoat on before the third text arrived.

  _ **Could you bring your trashbags and a shovel, too? Thanks!** _

 Carlos reread the text as his heart finally slowed down. He wasn't sure what happened between the second and third message, but the emergency seemed to have passed. Still, he moved a little faster than normal as he packed up his 'late night kit' and headed out towards the Ralph's. If he focused on his driving enough he could even smother the odd flutter in his stomach.

 By a small miracle the ride to Ralph's only lasted half as long as it normally did. The second he stepped out into the cold desert night he knew something was wrong. There were two other cars in the parking lot besides his parked side by side. He recognized Cecil's pick-up, but the other one was lost to him. Cecil wouldn't have been sloppy enough to leave evidence like an abandoned car behind! Would he? Now that Carlos thought about it he didn't really know much about Cecil's...habits.

 With his late night kit in hand he walked around to the back of the Ralph's. The cold desert night carried sound a little further than he would have preferred. A soft broken noise filled the silence around him. At first he assumed it was some sort of wounded animal crying out for mercy. But the closer he got he realized it wasn't an animal. It was human. Or at least, as human as Night Vale got. He walked faster as his stomach twisted with worry. Was that Cecil? Did something happen? He could feel the endless void surround him over the idea of a life without Cecil's show, Cecil's voice, Cecil's inhuman smile...

 He reached the back of the building and stopped dead in his tracks.

 Cecil was there, alright.

 So was another man. A man, Carlos noted, that was firmly lodged within Cecil's arms. He was shaking and crying like a scared child. Cecil was rubbing the poor man's back, whispering sweetly in a tone that Carlos had never heard before. The radio host was whispering calming words about how it was all going to be okay. A faint breeze swept across the two men and Carlos could smell the blood in the air.

 His stomach untwisted.

 His hands clenched.

 Carlos wasn't aware of how hard he was gripping his kit until Cecil looked up at him. "See, Earl?" Cecil's voice was nothing more than a faint whisper. "Carlos is here to help. I told you he'd come. Scientists are very good with this sort of thing."

 The man in Cecil's arms said nothing. Earl. Carlos knew that name. He's heard it before around town and at a few town meetings. But at the moment he couldn't bother to place it. He was far too focused on how much he wanted to shove the crying man out of Cecil's grasp. To...protect Cecil? Yes. He was going to go with that. This wasn't the time or place to deal with anything else.

 Cecil nodded down into the large hole next to him. Carlos had examined the Hole Behind The Ralph's many times before. It was one of the lesser mysteries of Night Vale. After all, a hole that kept changing its size was nothing compared to the rest of the town. Carlos pulled a flashlight out of his pocket and with a click shone it down into the hole. He was almost certain the last time he studied the hole there wasn't a body at the bottom. Make that a very messy, very fresh dead body.

 The man named Earl let out another wail.

 "It's okay! It's okay!" Cecil quietly shushed the shaking man in his arms. "Carlos and I are going to make it all go away. But I need you to listen to me, Earl. I'm going to drive you home. When we get to your home I'm going to wash all of your clothes and give you something that'll help you sleep. And in the morning when you wake up this will all be gone. Understand?"

 Earl got it together enough to lift up his head. "B...b....but..."

 "Carlos is going to take care of _that_. Isn't that right, Carlos?"

 Carlos  stared down at the fresh corpse. It was wearing the same type of uniform that Earl was. Some sort of scout uniform? There was no way he could identify the body at the moment anyway. The head was more or less a pile of mush. "I can take care of this."

 "Good. Wait here a second, Earl. I need to talk to Carlos." Cecil let go of Earl and moved over to Carlos' side. He dropped his rough voice to a whisper. "Thank you. For coming to help."

 "No problem." Carlos glanced over his shoulder at Earl. The young man was staring off blankly into the night sky. "Earl, right? Is he...?"

 "Oh no, we're just friends."

 "What? No. I mean, is he..." Carlos shrugged. "Like us?"

 Cecil shook his head. "This is the first time this has happened. I mean sure, we used to go hunting together when we were young, but nothing beyond that. I think it was in self defense. I'm pretty sure it was in self defense."

 "Cecil, the body down there no longer has a head."

 "Self defense." Cecil took a deep breath. "I'm going to stay with Earl tonight. Just to make sure he doesn't do anything he might regret. Can you clean this up on your own?"

 "Yeah, I got this." Carlos gave Cecil a small smile. He couldn't help it. Between the scent of blood and Cecil being so close he actually felt pretty good. He lightly squeezed Cecil's shoulder, and at once he could see a change ripple through the man. Cecil's eyes brightened as life seemed to return to him. He returned the smile and walked back to Earl's side, leaving Carlos with the mess.

 Thankfully the hole only looked a few feet deep tonight. Carlos sat down on the edge, the odd flutter in his stomach the only thing keeping him going. Would the sand wastes be empty this time of night? Was there something back in the lab that could take care of this? Maybe he could swing by the dog park and toss what was left of the body over the wall. The Hooded Figures did enjoy fresh meat. He went to go jump into the hole when he heard the soft sound of a throat being cleared. Carlos looked over to see Cecil supporting up the scout with one arm.

 Cecil smiled. It was a warm, natural smile. Still a little too toothy.

 "Thank you, Carlos."

 Carlos' body relaxed. He could live with that smile.

 "Anytime, Cecil." He said before slipping into the hole with his kit.


	4. Saturday, February 2nd 2013

Carlos itched.

 The itch had been there for weeks now. For the most part Carlos was able to ignore it and focus on his work. But now, trapped in the bowels of a Starbucks, the urge was impossible to ignore. Everything in the small cafe was designed to rub Carlos the wrong way. The terrible 'woman singing about trees' muzak. The customer complaining about how the barrister was making their coffee. The barrister boasting about his Fight Club merchandise collection! Carlos tapped his fingers against his coffee cup, knowing damn well he could easily fix all of these problems.

 But he wouldn't.

 He wasn't going to do that anymore.

 "Good afternoon, everyone!"

 Carlos looked up as Cecil walked in. Cecil was different in the daylight. His wide smile was far more natural. He was always talking, always commenting on every little thing around him. The radio host was simply bursting with life. Even now on the way to Carlos' table he kept stopping to chat with every single person in the claustrophobic cafe. He weaved through the tables as if dancing to the terrible muzak.

 "Oh! I always loved this weather! Reminds me of the first snow I ever saw during my European vacation! Good morning, Alice! How's the job at Dark Owl records treating you? I hope you're not losing too much blood! And James! How is that manuscript coming along? You simply must send a copy down to the radio station! I would love to do a piece on it sometime. I'll take whatever Mrs. Hopkins is having, it simply looks divine. Oh, and-" Cecil finally looked Carlos' way and smiled. The same smile from that night. The one that sent shivers up Carlos' spine and warmed him right down to his toes.

 " _Carlos!"_ Cecil grabbed his coffee and sat down across from the scientist. "I hope I didn't keep you waiting. I had to dig up all of those numbers you were looking for!" He pulled a piece of paper out of his pocket. "Though I'm not too sure how many of these you can use with a normal cell phone. The Mayor's requires at least two hieroglyphics, and I still haven't decoded the cypher needed for the newspaper's number. But if you really need to talk to Leann just start talking about blogs out loud and I'm sure she'll hear you."

 "Thanks, Cecil." Carlos carefully plucked the paper from Cecil in a way to keep their fingers from touching. "But I really needed to talk to you about something else. Could we go someplace a little more private?"

 Carlos could tell that Cecil was trying not to look too happy at that question. He was failing. "Mission Grove Park?" Cecil's voice cracked a little. "It's right down the block. Should be fine as long as we stay away from the thing we're not allowed to think about, or the other thing I'm not allowed to talk about. Yes, let's go there now. Right now. "

 Much to Carlos' surprise Cecil didn't speak while they walked to the park. Even as they wandered into the light smattering of trees the radio host was unusually silent. He would occasionally sip at his coffee and stare down at the worn path under them. If Carlos didn't know any better he could have sworn Cecil was blushing. He wished he caught more of yesterday's show. Did something happen? He really couldn't remember anything beyond his clock research. Carlos took a deep breath. He wasn't ready for this conversation.

 "His name was Andy Harris."

 Cecil finally looked up. "Sorry?"

 "Andy Harris." Carlos repeated. "He was the class bully back when I was a child. There's always one, you know? Some poor kid that lashed out since he didn't know what else to do. And, well, I was a chubby nerdy kid with thick glasses and weird hair. So I was a favorite target of his all throughout grade school."

 "I'm sure you were adorable." Cecil muttered.

 "One day after school he chased me all of the way to the top of the jungle gym. And I...pushed him. I didn't know what else to do and I pushed him. He landed on one of the lower bars neck-first. The paramedics said he died instantly and probably didn't even feel a thing. Everyone chalked it up as a terrible accident and, well, that was the end of that. For months I was afraid I was going to be arrested and thrown in jail forever but it just...it just didn't happen."

 Carlos took another long swig from his coffee. "Then there was Billy Toles in High School. He would always harass some friends of mine between classes. So I held him down in the school's swimming pool until he stopped moving. My first roommate in college, well, should have been in jail a long time ago for various reasons. All that took was a slight tampering of his medication. And there were more after that. A lot more. And I wish I could say that all of them were for noble reasons. But they weren't. Some where because I was petty, or because I was angry, or just because I knew how good it would feel.

 I always knew it was a matter of time before I was caught. Before all of my past sins caught up to me. But then I came here. I came here and no one cared about what I did, or what I might do. Hell, the Secret Police gave me a special license and a municipally approved body dumping map! I told them straight out that I should be punished for what I've done and they laughed! Said a scientist like me probably had a very good reason for my late-night hobbies.

 And then it hit me." Carlos stopped. They were completely surrounded by trees. There were no cameras, no hooded figures, just him and Cecil. "I've done what I've done for a myriad of reasons. But I don't know what motivates you, Cecil."

 "Carlos?"

 "Please. Tell me."

 Cecil looked up from his now cold coffee. For once the man looked small. Meek. Afraid. He moved his lips silently before he could find the right words to say. "I kill because I'm told to."

 "By who?"

 "Night Vale."

  Birds chirped in the distance. A deer moved through the woods on the search for prime real estate. But none of that mattered. At that moment the only thing that existed in Carlos' eyes were Cecil and those two words.

 "The town." Carlos finally managed. "The town tells you who to kill?"

 "Not directly! I mean, that would be crazy!" Cecil let out a small, odd laugh. "No no no, I receive dark dreams and visions ordering my hand! Though occasionally it is written down on the stone slabs at Town Hall. Shame those are always so vague! I'm still not sure if I'm the one referenced in Earl's. But if it's not me I'm not too sure who it would be-"

 " _Cecil!_ "

 Carlos' coffee cup fell onto the stone path as he grabbed Cecil by the shoulders. "Cecil. If you were ordered to kill me, would you?"

 "Wh-what..."

 "Cecil, please. Be honest. Would you kill me?"

 He watched Cecil as a flurry of emotions flickered across the man's face. Cecil was hurt. He was terrified. He was devastated. He looked completely torn in half by Carlos' question. And he wasn't sure which part was tearing Cecil up. Carlos let go of Cecil and stepped back before the radio host could respond.

 "Forget it." Carlos muttered. "I'm done, Cecil. I won't indulge in my bad habit anymore. Because unlike you, I have a choice. And if I don't stop now one day I won't even have that." With those words hanging in the air he turned and left, leaving Cecil behind.


	5. Friday, March 15th 2013

Cecil Palmer was having a bad day.

 That wasn't correct. Cecil Palmer was having a terrible day. An awful week. A horrifying month. A nightmarish fourty-five days. Yes. That's when the rotten bout of luck started. The moment Carlos held his shoulders and asked Cecil to tell him the truth. Ever since that moment his life had turned into an endless wasteland of bad luck and dull days. Even with Valentine's Day and that mysterious traveler arriving in town things had been mundane at best. And not just because Carlos wasn't talking to him anymore.

 Night Vale wasn't, either.

 There were no whispered voices in his ear. No dreams of cloaked figures with silver knives. No visions of blood commanding his hands. The ache was still within him but there is no way to sooth it. Never before in his life had Cecil felt so completely useless. So unfulfilled. He dragged his feet as he walked, flinching with every odd squish sound his shoes made. Part of him knew he should probably go home and shower, but he didn't feel like tracking blood into his house. Not this blood. So instead he was wandering around town, watching the Secret Police as they cleaned up after the Sandstorm.

 The town was simply a mess. Getting rid of roughly an entire population's worth of bodies was easier said than done. Volunteers were dragging the remains into bonfires while hooded figures kept trying to snatch away limbs while no one was looking. No one paid Cecil any mind as aimlessly walked through the city. He stopped for the no walking decayed-animal sign and rubbed his neck. The deep red mark wrapped around it was still sore to the touch.

 Maybe the vortex was Night Vale punishing him? There was no other way to explain what he saw on the other side. That mockery of what he might have once considered heaven. No, he must have been shown a vision of hell for doubting his role. His stomach lurched at the memory of a sound booth flooded with neon green light. If a fresh sacrifice was a meal for a God then that room was an overflowing septic tank for slime.

 The walk sign changed over to a blossoming flower as he crossed the street. In the end he couldn't even bring himself to kill that mockery of his own reflection. He had gripped his double's throat tight, letting his sharpened nails dig into the man's flesh. But just as he went for the jugular he thought not of the ones he served, but of Carlos. He thought of the last time he had seen him, standing in in front of him with a frown on his perfect lips. How those dark eyes of his were almost overflowing with sorrow.

 No. Not sorrow.

 Pity.

 The buzzing of his cell phone brought Cecil back to the present. He fished it out of his pocket and frowned at the screen. He was pretty sure he had blocked that number weeks ago to prevent drunk dialing. But it wouldn't be the first time he and his phone disagreed on the matter of who he should talk to. Hell, he still wasn't sure why it wouldn't let him talk to Earl. He lightly brushed his thumb against the phone's glass screen. This couldn't be good.

 "Carlos?"

  _"Cecil!"_ Carlos' voice echoed from the other end of the line. " _Oh thank God! Cecil, I heard the broadcast and, and-"_ There were muffled noises in the distance. Worried voices, someone crying, and a sound that could only be described as 'hurried guzzling'. " _I've been trying to reach you since the sandstorm started and, and..."_ Another sound. This one of a sigh of relief. " _I'm glad you're okay."_

 Cecil sat down on a slightly stained metal bench. Which was now a very stained metal bench. "You were worried about me?"

 " _Of course! I mean, I fear for everyone in this town. But when you vanished into that portal I, I was afraid for you, too._ _And then that's when all of the lab's doubles showed up and by the time that was taken care of you were already back and I've been trying to get a hold of you but Dana or her double said you already left and-"_

 "Carlos!" Cecil could feel himself smile for the first time in weeks. "It's okay! I'm okay. And you're okay. Unless you're your double, then your double is okay."

 " _No, it's me. I um,"_ Carlos' voice dropped to a whisper. " _My double was my complete opposite. All he did was beg for mercy. So um, I'm still me."_

 "Great!" Cecil fought back the cheer in his voice. "Good. Even though I'm sure your double would have been perfect in every respect, I'm happy that Night Vale still has the real you." He was happy, too. But he knew that part was better left unsaid. There was a chance that Carlos' good will was simply the result of the rush of the kill. Or maybe the unnamed Gods had thrown him a bone.

" _Listen, Cecil."_ Carlos said, his voice normal again. _"I was hoping if you could come down to the lab. The_ _secret police said they're backed up on body-cleaning duty, so it's up to us to get the bodies ready for disposal._ _Normally I wouldn't ask for help, but there's eleven bodies here, and that's too many for me to get ready before they start decaying, and the rest of the lab is trying to drink the memories away. Could you, if you're not busy...?"_

  "I'd be glad to, Carlos." Cecil glanced over at the street sign. "I'm about two blocks away. Could you get an extra set of gloves and some sort of large knife ready for me?"

_"No problem. I think Patty has a spare machete in the shed._ "

 "Okay, I'll see you-wait." Cecil paused. "Isn't there ten of you down at the lab? Why is there eleven bodies?"

 There was a long pause from the other side of the phone.

 " _Well. No one really liked Thad anyway._ "


	6. Wednesday, May 15th 2013

The problem with Night Vale, Carlos reflected, was that it was impossible to tell what was going to kill you. He once spent an afternoon running from a five headed dragon only to find out that Hiram was simply trying to give him a speech. On the other hand, he was nearly killed on Valentine's Day when one of his lab members decided to buy some flowers for his girlfriend. He knew that every day he spent in Night Vale he was risking his life. The problem was that he never was sure what was going to try to kill him that day.

 For example: mute children at a boy scout gathering? He never saw that coming.

 "That was the Secret Police. The scouts are all safe and accounted for." Earl pocketed his phone and sat down on the edge of the roof next to Carlos. Thanks to the Scoutmaster's quick thinking they were able to escape up to the roof of the Ralph's unharmed. Sadly Earl didn't have any sort of escape plan. Carlos dangled his legs off of the side of the building, staring down at the mob of mute children below.

 The mob of mute children stared back up at them. Silent. Unblinking.

 "I think they want something. Probably one of us." Carlos muttered. He was starting to regret his brilliant idea of studying the scout ceremony. It made sense at the time. Not also was he curious to see exactly how different the scouts were in Night Vale, he would also get to witness a ceremony in which two young boys achieved immortality. Not to mention he also wanted to figure out that odd twist in his stomach that happened every time Cecil mentioned Earl.

"Well, the stone tablet down at Town Hall said nothing about death by mute children." Earl said as his feet kicked against the side of the building. "What about you? Do outsiders get stone tablets?"

 "I looked into it once. But the receptionist wouldn't stop drooling squid ink every time I tried to talk to her."

 "I think that's a no."

 A muffled buzz came from each of their pockets. At once Carlos and Earl pulled out their phones.

 "Cecil?" Earl said glancing Carlos' way.

 "Yeah. You too?"

 Earl nodded. "There's five mute children in his soundbooth, and the mobile set up is too scared to leave its box. Looks like we're here for the long haul."

 Carlos nodded. Cecil had sent him the same text. Of course, his text had the extra line of 'they won't bleed no matter how much I stab them'. For a moment he wondered if Earl's text had that same line. Or if he should even ask if it did. The two men sat together in silence, both of their legs dangling off the roof. The mute children stared at them and they stared back.

 "Thank you."

 It took Carlos a moment to realize those words came from Earl. "I'm sorry?"

 "Thank you." Earl kept his eyes firmly on the mute children below. "For um, helping me out. That one night."

 "Oh." Carlos shrugged. "It was no problem. I mean, I'm a scientist." He sat up straight and tugged his lab coat's lapels. "I'm used to that sort of thing. And I'm sure you had your reasons."

 "Not really." There was a twinge in Earl's voice that made Carlos look up. The other man's eyes were distance. He looked tired. Defeated. "I just...I found out that Frankie and Bert were just a few badges away from becoming Eternal Scouts and, and...I thought..."

 Carlos reached over and lightly touched Earl's back. That was all the Scoutmaster needed to find his voice. "I wanted Cecil to notice me." Earl said, his voice weak. "We were best friends growing up. And then a few weeks after his fifteen birthday he...changed. He didn't care about anything but getting blood on his hands. For awhile we'd used to go hunting together, and, well, that was nice. But after he went away to Europe..."

 Earl's shoulders slouched. "I thought if I killed someone he'd finally notice me. Just once. Just for once I wanted him to look at me with those strange eyes and...and see me. See everything that I've been hiding from him. But, well, you saw how well that went."

 Carlos awkwardly rubbed Earl's back, just because he wasn't sure what to say. It seemed to be enough, because Earl continued.

 "You're lucky, you know." He finally looked over at Carlos. "All you had to do was smile at him."

 "Lucky, huh? That's one way of putting it." He stared back down at the mute children. At the moment it really didn't matter who Cecil liked more. Neither of them were going to be able to escape without some sort of distraction. His fingers lingered against Earl, not ready to pull away. "Hey Earl?"

 "Yeah?" Earl said as he pulled himself out of his thoughts.

 "What does your stone slab thing say, anyway?"

 "Oh. It said I'd be betrayed by someone I trusted. No mentions of mute children, so I think I'm-"

 All it took was one small push.

 Earl toppled forward without even the slightest bit of effort on Carlos' part. For a moment the Scoutmaster seemed to hang in the air. After meeting the station's cat Carlos was worried that he might actually float there. But Carlos' perception caught up with the correct movement of time as Earl fell into the mass of mute children below. The Scoutmaster had just enough air in his lungs to let out one last scream as he was carried away into the burlap tent. The scream echoed against the side of the building and rung in Carlos' ears. It was the perfect mixture of fear and betrayal. But there was something else in there too. Just the smallest hint of regret. Not of what would happen to him, but what never would happen again.

 Carlos' phone buzzed in his hands the same time Earl's forgotten phone buzzed on the rooftop. A quick flick of his thumb revealed a message from Cecil. The radio announcer was safe, mute-child free, and was planning on grabbing a few drinks after work. There was no direct question about Carlos joining him, but he was able to imply it with the use of a winky-face emoji. Carlos picked up Earl's phone and glanced at his text. There was no winky-face on that one.

 "Lucky, huh?" Carlos' thumb moved across the screen. He typed a short reply to Cecil politely turning his implied invitation down, citing a busy night of science ahead of him. Not to mention he was pretty sure Cecil wouldn't be in the mood to celebrate once the news about Earl reached him. He carefully wiped his fingerprints off of Earl's phone before tossing it over the side of the building. Old habits died hard.

 "That's one way of putting it."


	7. Saturday, June 15th 2013

Carlos deserved this. Maybe it was his Catholic upbringing telling him that, but deep down he knew it was true. The second the tiny underground city began its attack he knew he deserved it. He deserved every missile that burned his skin, every harpoon that dug into his flesh, every drop of blood  that spilled out onto the tiny streets below. After the life he had lead he deserved nothing more than to die that very moment. Slowly and painfully, if there were any justice in the world.

 But there wasn't. And he hadn't.

 With a pained grunt Carlos pulled himself up onto the trunk of his car. He also knew that he probably should go to the hospital. Maybe even drive to the next town over and go to a real hospital. As impressive as Teddy William's skills were his wounds should probably be properly dressed. Yet Carlos remained seated on the back of his car. Not just because the adrenaline was starting to wear off and it hurt too much to move. As he had laid dying on the bowling alley floor all he could think about were his two last regrets.

 One were the lights above him. Carlos had seen them the first night he arrived in Night Vale. He had seen them all the way over on route 800, and was fascinated by the swirling lights. What great secrets did they hold? What was the source of their beauty? He had heard rumors of the town, whispered quietly after late nights drinking with his fellow scientists. For the longest time Carlos had assumed everyone was just exaggerating about the little desert town. But the second he saw those lights he knew it was real. That he had found the perfect place to study. And then the found out the mysterious lights were above an Arby's. An _Arby's._ The fast food place that only existed to drive past.

 Still. Even with the mysterious light's questionable taste in food, there was no denying their beauty. As he laid dying all Carlos wanted to do was see those lights one more time. The second regret had to do with who he wanted to watch the lights with.

 A second car pulled into the Arby's parking lot and managed to park across four spots at once. Hopefully the Secret Police would let that minor infraction pass due to the circumstances. Carlos watched silently as the car door opened and Cecil more or less stumbled out. The radio host sprinted towards Carlos only to slow down the second he got within about twenty feet. He hovered just out of Carlos' reach, twisting his hands together out of worry. Cecil was holding himself back.

 "What is it? What danger are we in? What mystery needs to be explored?" Cecil said as he tried to force a dramatic flair into his voice. The effect was ruined by the worried tone that echoed in every word.

 Carlos didn't want to reply. He wanted to jump off the trunk of the car and embrace Cecil as tight as he could. He wanted to kiss Cecil and taste the blood and coffee on his lips. He wanted to say everything he had been denying to himself over the past year. He wanted Cecil. But when he went to move a bolt of pain shot through his body. All of those lovely thoughts would have to wait until his body recovered. Instead he smiled and patted the trunk next to him.

 "Nothing. After everything that happened I just wanted to see you."

 "Oh?" It was less of a word and more of a whimpered note of happiness. Cecil climbed up onto the trunk and sat next to Carlos, close but not touching. His hands were still firmly on his lap, too scared to move. Now that he was close Carlos could see the red blotches around Cecil's nose, and how red the radio host's eyes were. Not in the normal creepy Night Vale way, either. Cecil had been crying. Crying over _him._

 Later, much later, Carlos would hear a recording of that night's episode. There would be laughter, and tears, and a quiet promise to rush home and kiss Cecil as soundly as he should have that night. But the part that stood out the most to Carlos was what Cecil claimed that he had said. As if Carlos could ever think of something that meaningful or poetic on the spot. It was probably for the best, really. It might have been odd to report what Carlos actually said to Cecil that night.

 "I wanted it to be you."

 Carlos could see Cecil look his way, yet the man said nothing. So Carlos continued.

 "When I was being attacked, and, and I was so sure I was going to die I just..." Carlos gulped. "I didn't want to die there. I didn't want to die all alone, killed by one of the most ridiculous things I've ever seen in my life. If I'm going to die in this town, and I probably will, I want my death to have some sort of meaning. And if that means being sacrificed to some sort of old nameless God then, then so be it. As long as you're the one holding the dagger."

 "C-Carlos?"

 Carlos placed his hand on Cecil's knee. Cecil's eyes sparkled from the lights high above, though Carlos wonder if any of that was from the man himself. There was so much he didn't know about Cecil, or the town, or the bloodthirsty God that ruled over all. But he was a scientist. He would learn every single mystery even if he had to spend the rest of his life there. Even if it ended up costing him his life. He knew that when he first arrived, but now with Cecil at his side it was the first time he was truly okay with it.

 There was that happy, half-sigh half-whimper from Cecil again. He placed his head on Carlos' shoulder. For once the radio host was unable to form any words. It didn't matter at all. After all, Carlos knew exactly what Cecil meant.

 ***

 Later that night Carlos dreamed.

 He didn't dream of the underground city, or of the Apache Tracker's cold body. Instead he dreamed of wearing silk robes as dark as the void. He dreamed of a silver dagger in his hand. And he dreamed of Cecil covered in hot blood, grinning and laughing in his arms. Somewhere in the back of his mind Carlos could swear that there was someone else there as well. Something ageless, nameless, that did not smile. It did not smile, but Carlos knew that it was pleased.


	8. Thursday, August 15th 2013

Carlos liked to think that the first date went well. There were a bit more buzzing shadow people than he would have liked. And he was still embarrassed over his 'let's go study trees' outburst in the middle of it. Thankfully, Cecil was unaware of the non-scientific nature of trees and Carlos' faux pas went unnoticed. But even with those few hiccups Cecil was more than eager to go on another date. And another after that. There were dates. They were dating. Cecil was his boyfriend.

 The word made Carlos' stomach flutter in a way that could only be described as 'schoolgirlish'. It filled him with a type of happiness he had never experienced before. Even the rush from the kill faded over time. But this? This stayed. It lingered. It lasted. Though small arguments and disagreements the feeling remained. Carlos knew what he felt, but he couldn't bring himself to say it. Even if Cecil said it the first time they met.

 "-and then all of these plant women boarded my subway car. Dresses made of petals, hair made of leaves, that sort of thing. Polite, but large enough to take up most of the car. I ended up having to share my seat with smallest of them. Small enough that she used doll parts as clothes. She told me that they were off visiting one of their sisters, and it was easier to visit her than for her to visit them because the sister is the size of the storms of Jupiter. Or was she living in the storms of Jupiter? Honestly, it was a little hard to tell what the small one was saying. Not because of her size! But from her many, many curses and poorly hidden innuendos."

 Carlos watched as his boyfriend dried the plate in his hands. "Uh...huh. Cecil? Are you sure you're okay? You were on that subway for awhile-"

 "Years!" Cecil carefully placed the plate on the drying rack. "But you know what they say! Can't be a community radio host without getting caught in another dimension at least once. It wasn't so bad, really. I met all sorts of travelers from worlds I cannot even begin to comprehend. Including a few different versions of myself! And I made sure to get out and stretch my legs at every station that was corporal enough to walk on. Why, I was even able to mail out some post cards!"

 Carlos paused mid-scrub. "That...explains a few odd events from my childhood."

 "Oh good, you got them! You might get more. Or other versions of yourself might get more. Or you might get some from other versions of me. Either way, I'm glad to be home to my Carlos." Cecil leaned forward enough to give Carlos a small kiss on the lips. Well, it started out small. Carlos didn't mind that the kisses quickly got carried away.

 "You know-" Carlos said as they came up for air. "We can stay in tonight. If you want."

 "Sounds great." Cecil grinned as he let go of Carlos. "But these dishes aren't going to finish themselves. Not during a weeknight."

 "Yeah, yeah." Carlos returned to his spot in front of the sink. He picked up a knife and began to wash it. "But the second we're done-" He looked down at the knife in his hands. For a moment he could see his eyes reflected in the knife's stained blade.

 And then he wasn't there anymore.

 He was somewhere else.

 Carlos floated within a void. Above him, taking up the whole sky, was a dark planet of the likes he had never seen before. The sphere was covered in razor-sharp obsidian mountains and squid ink seas. It roared silently, filling his ears with a faint static that echoed through every part of his body. Carlos stared up at the dark planet, and he could feel the dark planet stare back.

 There was someone else there.

 Someone reflected in the squid-ink seas. A man. One he had seen before.

 It was-

 "That homeless guy who lives behind the library?"

 Carlos was back in the kitchen. He was still holding the knife. The only thing that had changed was the worried expression on Cecil's face.

 "Paul Birmingham?" Cecil said as he raised an eyebrow. "What about him?"

 "I saw him. Not him. His reflection." Carlos waved his knife-free hand. "I saw his face reflected in this pitch-black ocean. Which was on this dark planet of immense size. That was above me in the void. Let me try that the correct way around. There was a dark planet of immense size covered in mountains and a black ocean in the middle of a void. And reflected in the waves of the ocean was the face of that creepy drifter that lives behind the library. Was that a vision? I've never had one of those before. What do you think it means, CeMMPH!"

 The knife slipped from Carlos' hand and fell back into the water. Not that Carlos noticed. His world was taken up by Cecil kissing him hard enough to leave a bruise. "Oh, _Carlos!_ " Cecil said breathlessly. "I hoped, I prayed that you would hear from Night Vale! But I never imagined it would be so direct! The town must really like you, Carlos."

 "Bwuh?"

 "Why Paul, I wonder? Oh! I bet they're annoyed that he somehow escaped his untimely death last Street Cleaning Day! Hmm. Do you think we have enough time to get you a proper silken robe? I think the ritual supply store is open until ten. But then again, we really should go and find Paul before he catches on to all of the omens of doom which are no doubtfully flooding his uneasy dreams. What do you think, Carlos?"

 "Wait. Wait. That vision, that, that's what you see? The town is talking to me? Why?" The last word died on Carlos' lips. The second he said it he knew why. He took Cecil's hand and raised it to his lips. Even then he couldn't bring himself to say that he loved Cecil. But he did. And Night Vale knew it.  "I know you wanted a quiet night in, but how about we go out tonight?"

 Cecil smiled. It was the same smile that Carlos saw in the desert all of those months ago when there were stars above and still cooling bodies below. The one Carlos fell in love with instantly. "You go start the car. I'll get the knives."

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by Mixxy! You can find her lovely writing at http://floating-cats.tumblr.com/
> 
> If you're interested in me screaming about robots check out http://arachnescurse.tumblr.com/
> 
> This work is un-beta'd, so sorry for any mistakes!


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